


Way Too Pretty To Be Punk

by Sarolonde



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Cinnamon Roll!Kuroo, Fluff, Love at First Sight, M/M, Musicians, Punk!Tsukki, background AkaSuga, background BokuOi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7372156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarolonde/pseuds/Sarolonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Album of the year and a record breaking International tour under their belt, Night Owl are the hottest new band. Tetsurou loves his band, he loves the music he creates with Keiji and Koutarou, but can't help feeling like something is missing. Enter, a gorgeous tall, blond, tattooed and pierced man, who sings like an angel and has a face just as heavenly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Know That Name...

**Author's Note:**

> I thought Night Owl would be an appropriate name for the band. ‘Night’ is darkness, aka black for Kuroo and also the moon for Tsukki. And, well, ‘Owl’ for Bokuto and Akaashi. Obviously. This is a highly indulgent, aesthetic fic and mostly for Kei… okay, all for Kei. And Tetsu is a damn cinnamon roll. Much fluff ahead. You have been warned.
> 
> This fic has been blessed with [fanart](http://vivedraws.tumblr.com/post/146940733103/kurotsuki-week-2016-day-3-4-work-a-gentle) from the gorgeous [Rosie](http://vivemarco.tumblr.com/) <3
> 
> KuroTsuki Week Day 3-4: Work

It’s early, too early in Tetsurou’s opinion, as he makes his way down a busy numbered street of New York. It’s loud, people are noisy creatures, and it makes him question what exactly he’s doing awake so early, when he’s on a songwriting vacation after a whole year of touring. As he spots the discreet _Firefly Music_ sign hovering above a small music store, he remembers his need for a new guitar.

The red door is heavy and awkward, a stark contrast to the bell chiming merrily above his head. Inside is larger than the exterior suggests but it’s made to look smaller with the cramp of instruments strewn about the room. The carpet is worn and there is a musty smell in the air; it’s not a bad smell, in fact it’s comforting in its familiarity, metallic and book-y. It’s nice. Tetsurou likes the stillness of the shop, the warmth; he instantly feels at home here.

Tetsurou’s gaze floats over the numerous guitars hanging on the wall as he runs his fingers gently over the cords while he waits for assistance because _his_ guitar, the one he came for, isn’t here on display. Turning from the beautiful instruments, Tetsurou glances about the quiet store once more, to the large drum kits and the brass section at the back.

_Surely the attendant heard the bell…_

“Hello?” he calls out but is met with silence.

Narrowing his eyes on the door at the back of the room, that seems like it’d lead to a staff or storage room, Tetsurou makes his way towards it. A gentle, melodic strum of guitar slows his pace as he focuses his hearing on the pleasant voice accompanying it. The male’s tone is like warm liquid honey, soothing over him and making his entire body relax. He immediately never wants to stop listening to the sound.

Drawn to the door, like a sailor lured in by a beautiful mermaid’s song, Tetsurou’s eyes widen as he finds the source. Sitting there on a faded red stool is a long-limbed blond strumming away on an acoustic guitar. He’s facing the other way so Tetsurou can’t see his face but his natural blond hair is styled in an undercut with a mop of golden waves on top. He has black framed glasses, multiple piercings through his ears, brushed silver headphones around his neck and his worn, white Chucks tap a steady beat. At the edge of the rolled short-sleeves of his worn grey t-shirt, the tips of black wing tattoos can be seen, ending halfway down his triceps.

His voice is too pure for his punk exterior. At least that’s what Tetsurou thinks until the music stops when he accidentally makes a noise, and the blond turns around. His face is… _Beautiful_ , even with the metal in it.

The surprise on the blond’s face is quickly replaced by a scowl. “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”

Tetsurou is too mesmerised by the liquid gold eyes narrowed on him, scrutinising as they rake down his body, to form any kind of response. Way Too Pretty To Be Punk rises from his seat and stands, taller than Tetsurou, ridiculously long legs clad in torn black denim and a baggy red hoodie tied at his waist. Somehow Tetsurou finally comes to his senses as the man sets his guitar down.

“Er…” Tetsurou clears his throat and grins. “Don’t get so defensive, I won’t tell your boss you were slacking off or anything.”

Perfect Face Perfect Voice smirks and his beautiful face becomes a whole new level of attractive, like, exaggerated cartoon gulp level.

“Considering my boss is me I hardly think he’ll mind.”

“You own this place?” Tetsurou questions, because now apparently instead of an inability to talk he has no control over his words. “You’re so…”

“Young? Tell me something I don’t know.”

_You’re really fucking gorgeous and I could literally stare at your face all day,_ Tetsurou thinks in response but obviously can’t say that out loud. He’s actually fairly proud that he has enough control _not_ to say it out loud, but he really doesn’t think his ego can take any more of this making-myself-look-like-a-tool business.

“So, can I help you with something?” Blond Undercut Angel asks.

“Oh, I was uh, I was looking for a new guitar and was told this was the place to come for Paul Reed Smith private stock.”

A pierced blond eyebrow rises. “You’re here for the McCarty?”

“Yeah, that is, if you’re selling it,” Tetsurou mutters, scratching at the back of his messy black hair, confused by the hesitation. “It’s not on display but I figured that’s just because of, y’know, its price and exclusivity.”

“I’ll go get it for you, just wait at the counter,” he says tersely, nodding towards the main store area.

Obediently Tetsurou turns on his heel and goes back to the counter that’s mounted with a dated off-white cash register and tubs of a variety of coloured picks. It’s moments like this that Tetsurou hates the ‘sexy and suave’ rock star image his publicist and the media assigned him; it’s a lot to live up to and, as much as he flirts and plays around, he’s not exactly either of those things. ‘Sexy’ is objective, he supposes, but he’s not arrogant enough to see that in himself. And ‘suave’ just makes him laugh, as much as he likes to play at it.

A minute later Gorgeous Leggy Blond returns with a plain black hollowbody guitar case that he lifts onto the counter. Unclipping the latches he reveals the glossy, burning orange guitar that’s more a work of art than an instrument. In a professional drawl the blond goes through the specifications of the guitar but all Tetsurou can focus on are his slender hands as his long, taped fingers move over the guitar. They’re really nice hands, made for gentle, measured movements over piano keys.

“I assume you want to play it.”

_Shit, he’s talking to you._

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to… try it?”

“Oh, er, yeah,” Tetsurou scrambles and picks up the beautiful instrument with steady hands. At least holding a guitar is so natural to him that he doesn’t drop or fumble it embarrassingly. He flexes his hand around the neck and holds it against his body, testing the weight.

“Here,” Breathtaking Young Music Shop Owner offers him a plain black guitar strap. “I’m kind of surprised someone like you would have to come to a place like this for your equipment.”

Tetsurou snorts a laugh as he finishes attaching the strap, but when he looks up the blond is giving him a discerning look and he realises what he just said. He can’t help but grin, feeling more satisfied than he probably should.

“Oh? You know who I am?”

Pierced Blond Beauty rolls his eyes. “Everyone knows who you are Tetsurou.”

“Oh, I figured—”

“You figured that because I didn’t treat you like the royalty that your fangirls believe you are, means that I must be some hipster muso living under a rock,” he supplies with a wry grin.

Instead of addressing _that_ topic Tetsurou answers the initial question. “We’re in New York writing for the new album and my favourite guitar is still in a moving truck. There was a mix up in the scheduling, so I thought a second favourite couldn’t hurt. Though this beauty could go right up to number one,” he says fingering the strings reverently and then looks back up. “It’s a little unfair I don’t know your name, don’t you think?”

“Kei Tsukishima,” he introduces and nods his head to the left. “There’s an amp over here.”

_Tsukishima… That name sounds familiar,_ Tetsurou thinks, but cannot for the life of him place it. He follows after Kei who turns on an amp before handing the cord to him. Focussing on the task at hand Tetsurou pushes the cord into the guitar and the amp buzzes with feedback until the cord is firmly in place. His fingers pluck at the strings and he habitually, carefully, listens to the notes that come out, but they seem in tune.

“I keep it tuned,” Kei responds nonchalantly to the unasked question.

With an incredible amount of self-control, Tetsurou doesn’t look up at him. Instead he presses his fingers against a cord and strums. ‘Smoke on the Water’ comes cleanly out the amp, because what better set of chords to test the instrument with than the most commonly played? Kei snorts a laugh and Tetsurou immediately glances up to find his arms crossed over his chest and a playful smirk curling his lips.

“Fine then, do you listen to my music?” Tetsurou questions, straightening to have this undoubtedly awkward conversation. “What’s your favourite song?”

“Night Owl isn’t exactly my style,” Kei answers and Tetsurou figured as much. He’s still smiling, his honey coloured eyes narrowing on Tetsurou, contemplative. “What’s your favourite of your songs?”

The question sounds important to Kei, which seems strange considering Tetsurou’s band is apparently ‘not his style’. It’s also an easy question, but Tetsurou pretends to ponder it. Musicians are supposed to love all their music, right?

“My favourite… Would have to be…”

Kei clicks his tongue. “C’mon, you must get asked this all the time.”

“My favourite is ‘Are You Listening?’” Tetsurou finally answers, not that he needed to hesitate, it’s his favourite by a long margin.

His blond brow creases momentarily as if attempting to catch a lie, but then his beautiful face opens up into a genuine smile, straight white teeth visible between his stretched lips. This only serves to confuse Tetsurou, but he can’t even begin to consider why with the pleasant flutter of butterflies in his stomach. Kei’s smile is breathtaking.

“Then play it,” Kei shrugs.

Following orders is about the extent of his cognitive control currently, so he does play it. Playing this song, like most of their songs, is as natural as breathing to Tetsurou. He’s played it countless times: in studios, on television, in hotel rooms, at rehearsal, on stage. It’s so natural to play this bouncing tune that he barely stops himself from singing the contrasting indignant lyrics. Not that Tetsurou’s self-conscious about his voice, he has a great voice, but he doesn’t want to seem like a douche that needs to prove that. He’s only testing the guitar.

When he stops playing Kei raises a pierced eyebrow at him. “So? What do you think?”

“Yeah, it’s great, I love it,” Tetsurou answers, smoothing his fingers over the rounded, vintage-style body and its cool glossy maple wood finish.

“So you’ll take it? It’s twelve grand, but I figure you can swing it,” he says strolling back over to the counter. “After that successful extended tour.”

Tetsurou groans as he unplugs the guitar. “Don’t remind me. We’re never doing it again, it was the most tiring year of my entire life.”

“Hm, that’s new, complaining about being the most successful band of the year.”

“Definitely not complaining about the success. A year of traveling, of not spending more than a week in the one place, is… It’s a lot. I love playing, I love being on stage and I love the fans and the excitement. But the interviews and autographs and… Now it just sounds like I’m bragging,” Tetsurou shakes his head and grins to himself. Kei’s smiling with amusement. “Anyway, with just the three of us in the band it’s a lot to take on. And now with the new album, the pressure, my _God_. Everyone expects so much and we’re putting so much on ourselves. Makes writing really difficult. I mean, album of the year… How are we supposed to top that?”

“You don’t have to top it,” Kei asserts, his expression sincere as he packs away the guitar, eyes flickering up to Tetsurou. “Write what you want to write, play what you like to play. When you start doing it, being a musician, for them, for your fans, you’ve already lost what they love about you.”

Tetsurou blinks and he feels himself holding his breath but can only focus on Kei’s words. His gracefully profound words.

“Wow, dude, _you_ should write music.”

A flicker of a smirk plays at the corner of Kei’s mouth before he bites it back. “Maybe.”

He starts smiling again though as Tetsurou is clearly caught staring at his mouth. Which, to be fair, it’s an incredible mouth that makes beautiful sounds, and probably feels incredibly soft and warm despite the metal hoop through his lower lip.

“Uh, shit, sorry,” Tetsurou stammers and grins lopsidedly as he hands over his credit card.

Kei processes the transaction, keying things into the old cash register and juxtaposing new EFTPOS machine with long fingers. The blond doesn’t stop smiling, though it seems more like a smirking-in-amusement-at-your-stupidity smile, Tetsurou can’t bring himself to care because either way it’s really nice to look at.

When the transaction goes through, Kei hands Tetsurou his card back and the receipt. He holds the guitar case up and their hands brush as Tetsurou takes the handle from him. Straightening, with his new guitar at his side, Tetsurou looks up at Kei and suddenly doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay and talk music and writing and all the things he somehow just _knows_ they have in common without really knowing _how_ he knows that.

“Good luck with your writing, Tetsurou,” Kei prompts his departure as they stand there in comfortable silence. It shouldn’t be comfortable, they don’t even know each other, and yet it is.

Tetsurou nods. “Thanks, I might need it.”

Offering a friendly smile, Tetsurou hesitantly turns on his heel and heads towards the door, which is heavy and even more awkward with the guitar case in his hand. Perhaps the door doesn’t want him to leave either. But he manages it, probably without his dignity intact, and walks back down the street, cold New York air making him shiver deeper into his jacket.

 

* * *

 

Tetsurou makes it back to his apartment in twenty minutes and only gets stopped along the way on two separate occasions for photos. Which, out on very busy, very public streets, is a miracle. Or, well, New York. It’s one of the reasons they live here now and love it. People just don’t care who you are. It’s great. Anywhere else and he’d have to be chaperoned by security if he ever wanted to go anywhere.

Night Owl are popular… To say the least.

The three of them – Tetsurou, Keiji and Koutarou – with the connections they’d gained after graduating from Juilliard, got incredibly lucky and signed a contract with one of the biggest record labels in the country. Within six months they had an album and a single ranked at number one, shortly followed by a nationwide tour, shortly followed by a global tour as their popularity got a little out of control. Every show was sold out, and packed and amazing.

It’s the stuff dreams are made of and he still finds it all a little hard to wrap his head around sometimes. But, holy shit, it’s been fun!

“I think I’m in love,” Tetsurou announces – exaggerates – as he enters their expensive penthouse apartment their studio is renting for them. He doesn’t particularly like it, it’s ridiculously big and modern and white. Not cosy at all. But they don’t have to pay for it, so, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

Keiji and Koutarou are sitting at a table messily covered in papers of lyrics and sheet music. Their writing process has always been a mess, an ‘organised shit-storm’ as Koutarou likes to call it, but somehow it works for them. The burly silver and black haired drummer is tapping his sticks against the edge of the table in the way Keiji, who is plucking the strings of his bass guitar, hates. His dark, thick lashes don’t even flicker up as Tetsurou enters, which is why he hasn’t told Koutarou off yet, he’s too concentrated.

“Found another kitten bro?” Koutarou says, grinning up at him. It’s not a euphemism for a woman, Tetsurou really likes cats.

“That was one time! And no, a blond with long legs, metal in his angelic face, a sharp, music-oriented mind and a voice as smooth as silk.”

“I would say ‘that’s exactly your type’, but you don’t have a type because you don’t date people. But your voice is doing that gooey, sappy thing that suggests he’s your type,” Koutarou remarks, his nose scrunched in a thoughtful expression. “The piercings thing is unusual, never pictured your preppy, Tommy Hilfiger clad ass with a guy like that.”

Tetsurou would scoff at the ‘guy like that’ comment, but he was as judgemental of the piercings as Koutarou is being and it would be hypocritical. Kei is the perfect example of not judging a book by its cover. Which is an odd thing to think because Tetsurou doesn’t know him, though he feels like he does.

“I don’t wear _that much_ Tommy Hilfiger,” Tetsurou complains instead.

Koutarou’s winged eyebrows rise as he pointedly looks him up and down. “Dude, you’re _literally_ dressed like a TH catalogue model right now. Could your coat’s collar _be_ any more popped?”

He grins lazily, pulls at said collar and flicks his bangs for effect. “You know it bro, I’m killin’ it! They practically sponsor me and send me clothes all the time, what am I supposed to do? _Not_ where them? Also not like you can talk, all you wear is Adidas.”

“Adidas is comfortable!”

“You look like a personal trainer that lives in the gym they work at.”

“ _That_ is… Not even an insult.”

“I can’t insult today, my brain is all gooey with memories of my beautiful blond angel,” Tetsurou singsongs, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Shit bro, you’re so gone.”

“You have no idea bro.”

Keiji heaves an exasperated sigh and finally looks up from the sheet music in front of him. “You both dress ridiculously. Did you get the Mc Carty?”

“Of course. But, shit dude, you should see him! Long pale neck, dark metal embellishments and beautiful golden head.”

“Somehow I get the feeling you’re not talking about the guitar,” Keiji deadpans.

Tetsurou snorts indignantly. “The guitar is a total piece of crap in comparison to Kei.”

“It’s an exclusive twelve thousand dollar guitar…”

“My point still stands.”

Dark green eyes roll towards the ceiling and Koutarou chuckles with amusement. “Just show me the damn guitar,” Keiji all but groans, setting down his bass.

Knowing how far he can push Keiji with his antics, and that this is the limit, Tetsurou places the case down on the table in front of him and reveals the magnificent instrument. Tetsurou grins happily as Koutarou gets overly excited, even though he’s never been one for guitars, and Keiji’s eyes widen marginally with reverence, his fingers moving carefully over the glossy burnt orange body.

“A local place sold this?” Keiji questions, his tone lighter than usual. The man knows his guitars and knows that this is one is special.

“Yeah. The shop’s amazing Keiji, has some of the best quality stuff I’ve ever seen in one place. Kei seems like he really knows his stuff, you’d like him. Sings like a fuckin’ angel too.”

“Kei?”

“The owner, Kei Tsukishima.”

Keiji glances up, his brow furrowed. “I know that name…”

“I know right, me too! Can’t for the life of me work out from where though.”

Koutarou shrugs. “Maybe someone we work with or know goes to his shop too.”

“Well, yeah, Hitoka was the one that suggested it to me. But she never mentioned his name, just the name of his shop.”

Keiji is looking more and more perplexed – reflecting how Tetsurou’s been feeling since he met Kei – like this is some kind of riddle he needs to solve, it’s an odd look on the usually indifferent man. Keiji takes out his phone and starts swiping through his contacts until a picture of the adorable blonde girl in question comes up.

“Wow, that eager to set me up with my dream guy Keiji?” Tetsurou teases but Keiji ignores him.

“The names so familiar…” he trails off in thought as the phone starts ringing, on speaker.

“ _Hey Keiji_ ,” Hitoka answers with her pleasant chiming voice, ever sounding uncertain.

“Hello Hitoka,” Keiji answers – Tetsurou and Koutarou yelling their greetings simultaneously – and gets straight to the point because… Well, because he’s Keiji and that’s what he does. “Tetsurou said you suggested a music shop to him and I’m wondering why specifically that one.”

There is a pause on the other end of the line. “ _Um, because it’s Kei’s shop_.”

Keiji frowns and Tetsurou feels himself do the same thing. “You know Kei?”

“ _Of course I do!_ ” she chirps like they’re crazy. “ _He’s my boyfriend’s best friend! W-Wait… You guys don’t know who he is?_ ”

“What do you mean?” Tetsurou questions, feeling like he’s missed some really important information somewhere down the line. “Why would _we_ know him?”

“ _Er, because he wrote, like, two songs on your album…_ ”

“He what?!” Tetsurou hears himself splutter but doesn’t recognise his own strangled sounding voice.

“ _H-How did you not know this? You had to have, it’s written on the track details for… Ah, ‘Here For You’ and ‘Are You Listening?’ I think were his songs,”_ Hitoka explains, while Tetsurou feels like he’s had a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. _“He wrote a lot of my biggest hits too, and for, like, a whole heap of other people. The music shop is basically just his hobby._ ”

The three of them had been more than happy to write their entire first album themselves but the studio had insisted they hire some experienced writers, for at least half of the tracks. ‘Here For You’ had actually been their breakout hit, reaching number one in an unprecedented amount of time and gaining them their popularity… Kei Tsukishima had inadvertently gifted them their success.

Tetsurou makes an indecipherable noise as his voice fails him, feeling dizzy and confused under the weight of this discovery. He needs to go back and shower Kei in praise, give him flowers and thank him profusely. Possibly kiss him, though that might be more for selfish reasons.

Koutarou chuckles, slapping Tetsurou on the shoulder. “You broke Tetsu, Toka.”

“ _Wha—? I-I didn’t mean to! Is he… Why?_ ”

“What’s going on here?” They all glance up from the phone as the front door closes behind their very unimpressed looking manager, Koushi Sugawara, his hand on his hip and eyebrow raised. “Not only are you _not_ getting any work done but you’re taking up the time of one of my other clients too?”

“We—Uh, we were—We just,” Koutarou flounders.

“Relax Koutarou, he’s joking,” Keiji explains, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“I knew that!”

A playful smile spreads across Koushi’s attractive features, accurately depicting the mischievous angel he is. Tetsurou would be sniggering in delight if his brain were currently operational.

Koushi is the one that discovered them and got them signed to his best friend, Daichi Sawamura’s, record label. Koushi has been with them every step of the busy and exhausting way into stardom and is the best manager they could ever ask for. He’s kind and caring but doesn’t take any of their shit and he handles their emotional dilemmas with experienced finesse. He’s become a close friend and in Keiji’s case, more than a friend.

Koushi, sharply dressed in black slacks and a soft, green sweater, walks around the table and sits himself in Keiji’s lap. Keiji’s arms wrap around Koushi’s waist, drawing him in close and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, making him smile joyfully. They’re really far too attractive together, it’s probably upsetting some kind of balance in the world.

“So, what’s going on? Why’s Tetsu broken?”

“ _I-I don’t know, I d-did something_ ,” Hitoka stutters worriedly.

“It’s okay Toka, you didn’t do anything. I was just surprised. I’m fine,” Tetsurou reassures her, hating hearing the girl so concerned and guilty. “We’ll let you get back to work, talk to you later Toka.”

“Dude, you literally just stopped functioning, you’re in looove~,” Koutarou singsongs after the call is ended, fluttering his eyelashes.

“And _you’re_ spending far too much time with Tooru.”

Koutarou pouts indignantly. “No such thing, bro.”

“In love with who?” Koushi questions, fingers brushing through Keiji’s dark hair reflexively.

“Kei Tsukishima,” Tetsurou answers, attempting to keep his voice steady but failing and sighing his name wistfully. “I assume you know him since he wrote songs for us.”

A knowing smile stretches Koushi’s lips, dimples forming in his cheeks. “Of course I know him, I discovered him. When I found him, singing beautiful original songs no one cared about in a tiny bar, I wanted to sign him of for a record deal but he didn’t want it. He said he was happy writing and didn’t want the limelight. I got him in contact with our songwriter manager and they’ve been working wonders together for three years. I always felt like it was a missed opportunity though, Kei’s incredibly musically talented; he’s rough around the edges but when he sings… he’s _captivating_.”

“I’ll say,” Tetsurou murmurs, remembering _his voice_ that left his skin humming in the most pleasant way possible. “I have to have him!”

“You can’t _have_ him… Or, well, I guess you can. But that’s kinda possessive bro,” Koutarou comments. “You _just_ met him.”

“I don’t mean like _that_. Okay, maybe I do, a little… A lot. But not my _current_ point. He should join the band!”

The three of them narrow their eyes on him as if he just told them he wants to dye a polar bear purple and ride it through Central Park – logistics aside that would be a cool idea for a music video. It’s a split second decision, but Tetsurou thinks it’s an idea that’s been building in the back of his mind ever since he heard Kei sing. Their first album may have been album of the year, but he always thought it lacked something. Kei could be exactly what they’re missing.

“It’s not the worst idea you’ve had,” Koushi allows, recovering first because he knows Kei.

“That’s… _kinda_ what I want to hear!” Tetsurou enthuses, glancing at his bandmates. “C’mon, you guys trusted me when I got us together to create Night Owl.”

When neither of them look as though they’re going to accept, or even speak, Koushi speaks up, ever the voice of reason.

“How about this? Invite Kei to come into the studio and play with you guys, after all, you still have to convince _him_ and I think that will be even more difficult than convincing these two. Of course you’ll need to _meet_ Kei before deciding.”

“Fine,” Koutarou mumbles.

“I’m okay with that,” Keiji permits, resting his head against Koushi’s shoulder. Tetsurou thinks his agreement has more to do with Keiji pleasing his boyfriend than actually liking the idea. He tries to remind himself that they’re only hesitant because they haven’t met Kei and they’re protective of the band, which is a good thing since it’s worked so well for them. But change can also be good.

“Awesome! I’m going to go see Kei now, I’ll be—”

“Oh no you don’t,” says Koutarou, pulling Tetsurou back by the popped collar of his coat. “No way am I allowing you to make yourself look desperate, he sounds like the type who wouldn’t appreciate that. Just lookin’ out for you, bro code dude, thems be the rules.”

Tetsurou sighs and concedes, “You’re right.”

As soon as Koutarou’s grip relaxes on his collar, buying into his lie, Tetsurou sprints for the door. He doesn’t get very far though, getting tackled to the ground and pinned rather easily, all of Koutarou’s muscle isn’t for nothing.

“Bro,” Koutarou grunts, as if he’s the one being crushed right now and not Tetsurou, who lets out a long groan.

“Why can’t you let me _live?_ ”

 

* * *

 

 

The familiar, pleasant bell chimes above Tetsurou’s head as he pushes open the heavy red door two days later. Koutarou had kept him in the house, sometimes physically restraining him in order to achieve this. They’ve had a lot of work to do, interviews and meetings, so it wasn’t like keeping Tetsurou away from Kei was the primary reason. Koutarou is right though, he can’t rush this, and Tetsurou has decided to focus on the band recruitment first, dating later. Maybe. Hopefully.

The shop isn’t empty today, Tetsurou’s eyes float immediately to the long limbed blond sitting in the exact position as when Tetsurou had met him, sitting with a guitar on his knee and his back to the door.

“We’re closed,” Kei drawls, not turning to face him.

The ‘closed’ sign on the door had said as much but Tetsurou had seen Kei inside and the door was unlocked. He can’t bring himself to answer because he’s too busy staring at Kei’s long elegant neck, mesmerised, because apparently The Blond Angel turns him into an incompetent creep.

“I said we’re—” Kei whips his head around, honey brown eyes widening on Tetsurou before his composure relaxes his features. “Tetsurou, what are you doing here?”

“I know who you are.”

Kei’s eyes narrow on him before a smirk curls at the corner of his mouth. “Congratulations, your memory works. Or did you read my name printed on the door, though that seems unlikely since you can’t seem to read a simple ‘closed’ sign.”

“No,” Tetsurou shakes his head adamantly. “I know you’re a famous song writer, behind closed doors, and that you wrote two of our songs.”

Rising from his stool and placing the guitar back on the wall, his smirk becoming forced, Kei ambles back to the register. “Well, if you’ve come for your money back technically you didn’t pay me, so jokes on you.”

Tetsurou frowns. “Why would I…? No, Kei, your songs are _amazing_.”

Kei scoffs but otherwise doesn’t respond. Instead he busies himself with organising some paperwork spread out on the counter. Tetsurou leans against it across from him, scrutinising him. The way he brushes off the compliments and avoids the discussion, seeming uncomfortable, it’s almost like Kei’s insecure. Which is odd, considering how successful he is. But the more Tetsurou watches him the more he sees it in the tense set of his shoulders and the way his fingers entangle, locking tightly.

“You know, you seemed really happy when I said ‘Are You Listening?’, your song, is my favourite,” Tetsurou points out, a smirk curling at his mouth.

He knew it would work, he knew it would get Kei to listen and pay attention. What he didn’t know is how effective it would be, too effective apparently. Kei’s pale cheeks warm, a rosy pink colour painting his cheekbones as his long blond lashes flutter to glance up at him. Tetsurou’s heart stutters in his chest at the beautiful sight.

“What do you want, Tetsurou?” Kei questions, his voice quiet.

His cheeks only deepen in colour the longer Tetsurou stares at him, not answering.

“T-Tetsurou?”

“Er, uh…” he clears his throat, shaking himself of his daze and taking a deep breath. “I want you to consider joining Night Owl.”

Kei’s gold eyes narrow, his blond brow furrowing.

“No.”

“Wh-What? You didn’t even—”

“No,” Kei interrupts, walking away and out the back of his store but Tetsurou just follows him.

“Oh come on Kei, _consider_ it at least. You don’t have to decide now, you have tons of time. Kind of,” Tetsurou convinces, following Kei – who seems to be diligently ignoring him – through the storage area. “We’re already writing for the album, but we don’t really have a deadline on that because it’s also supposed to be time off. Keiji and Koutarou want to meet you. Down at the studio on Monday morning, totally casual, we’ll be there a while for some planning and playing anyway.”

“Have fun,” Kei drawls, searching through a filing cabinet.

“Please just consider coming. I know you don’t want the exposure but… I think we’d work really well together, all of us. I think you’re a good fit, I think you’re what we need, Kei.”

Kei hums a half-hearted agreement. “I’ll think about it.”

It sounds like a complete lie, his tone dry and bored. Tetsurou heaves a sigh. There isn’t anything more he can do. It’s not like he can force Kei to join.

“Okay, I’ll see you Monday,” he says optimistically, grinning as he backs out of the room.

“Maybe. Goodbye Tetsurou,” Kei says, not even looking back at him.


	2. Just Read The Lyrics

The deep rumble of Koutarou’s drums envelope the room as the overly energetic spiky haired man shows off for his boyfriend, rolling out technique heavy beats. Tooru is watching in rapt fascination, like this isn’t the hundredth time Koutarou has played for him, hearts practically leaping out of his eyes.

Tetsurou stares at them without really seeing them, tapping his pen against his notepad restlessly. Kei hasn’t shown up, because of course he won’t, he wouldn’t really consider it, this isn’t the life he wants. Tetsurou doesn’t blame him, it’s often tiring, he loves it nonetheless, he loves being able to share his music with the world. He thought Kei wanted the same, that’s why he writes isn’t it?

Sighing Tetsurou drops the pen and rubs at his face. _I need to forget about it, it was wishful thinking after all,_ Tetsurou thinks, focussing his attention on his friends.

Keiji is focussed on his own notepad, sitting beside Tetsurou and side eyeing him worriedly every now and then. Keiji likes to look after them; it’s what he and Koushi bonded over, mothering them. It took Keiji and Koushi a long time to act on their mutual feelings of affection as they were concerned it would interfere with their work. It doesn’t though, they’re both far too mature and professional for that.

Koutarou and Tooru’s relationship had started the exact opposite to Keiji and Koushi’s, hot and heavy. They were all over each other and it was a mess for their publicity. Tooru’s a famous model and all round celebrity and with Koutarou’s rapidly growing fame at the time, the media gobbled the relationship up, spitting out numerous, ridiculous, stories about them. Despite that shit-storm they somehow managed to fall in love – which was a shit-storm of emotion all of its own – and Tooru actually came along with them, to Europe, on half of their tour.

They’ve created a comfortable little family that functions effortlessly in a perfect balance of personal and professional. Tetsurou loves and trusts all of them. But it also reminds him of how alone he is. He never used to care, until he met Kei that is… Trust Tetsurou to be the one to fall in love with someone at first sight – or first sound?

In an attempt to escape thoughts of Kei, Tetsurou rises from his seat and makes his way over to where all their equipment is set up. Koutarou grins brightly at him as he slings his guitar over his shoulder, Tetsurou winking in response.

His pick strums over the strings intuitively, fingers splayed on the neck as he joins in with Koutarou playing ‘Here For You’. It’s a happy, bouncy tune that Tooru dances around to, singing the sappy lyrics with Tetsurou, without microphones the sound is drowned out by the music though – which, considering Tooru’s singing voice, is a good thing.

The beat shifts after the second chorus though – Tooru pouting at that, ‘Here For You’ is his favourite song – and Tetsurou recognises the unnamed new song they’ve been working on. He quickly matches the beat, shifting into the newly created chords. It’s slower and atmospheric, more focussed on the vocals and lyrics, which they haven’t yet finalised.

Lines crease between Koutarou’s winged eyebrows as they knit together and he slows the beat to a stop, gazing at something past Tetsurou. Spinning abruptly Tetsurou’s eyes land on Kei and immediately widen, a smile automatically spreading over his face.

The blond is standing by the table where Keiji is seated, his hands casually in his pockets and his lips curled into a lopsided smirk. A bright red beanie sits on his head, the long golden hair of his undercut curling over his forehead, to the top of his black-rimmed glasses, from underneath it. He’s wearing black skinny jeans with heavy biker boots and a faded navy hoodie that reads ‘fucking pathetic’.

“You need an off-beat kick,” Kei says simply into the silent room.

“The beat’s amazing, who the hell are you?” Tooru demands, incensed on his boyfriend’s behalf. “Who even let you in? This is a private studio.”

Kei raises a pierced blond eyebrow. “I have exclusive rights from the producer to come and go as I please.”

“Kei,” Tetsurou breathes. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Yeah, well, figured you idiots could use some help. Seems I was right.”

 _Wonderful, what a great way to kick it off with the band,_ Tetsurou grimaces inwardly. He can practically hear Koutarou’s complaints forming but he’s cut off at a mere high pitched whine by Keiji’s glance – which is a veritable death glare to anyone who knows him.

“Keiji Akaashi, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he introduces, standing up to shake Kei’s hand. “I’m a fan of your work, Hitoka’s ‘Clear View’ is my favourite of your songs.”

Tetsurou almost jumps up and down in celebration as Kei smiles genuinely at Keiji, clearly pleased with his taste, and actually shakes his hand firmly. Even with how little Tetsurou knows Kei he can tell that he’s very similar to Keiji, they have similar interests and tastes and personalities; he knows they’ll get along. Kei and Koutarou is where things might get difficult.

“One of my favourites too, her voice is perfect for it,” Kei agrees, straightening his glasses.

Speaking of ‘favourite songs’ Tetsurou has an idea. “I don’t know,” he speaks clearly, making sure he’s heard. “I think the way you wrote ‘Here For You’ was pretty amazing.”

Kei immediately frowns at him, knowing that it’s _not_ Tetsurou’s favourite, but Tooru gasps.

“You’re _Kei Tsukishima_? The Kei Tsukishima who wrote ‘Here For You’?” Tooru excites, his warm brown eyes widening. Kei merely nods, albeit slowly and reluctantly. “Koko, you _have_ to have him!”

Koutarou groans, but relents. “Fine, but only for you babe. And Tetsu,” he adds, winking… _winking_. Tetsurou makes a face at him but Kei doesn’t seem to notice, distracted by the rest of the discussion.

“Woah, woah, no one is _having_ me, I’m not here to be had,” Kei complains, his face scrunched in annoyance, he looks incredibly cute. “I’m just here to play with you.”

“I’m not the only one hearing all the innuendo, am I?”

“Nope,” Keiji and Tooru answer in unison.

Kei rolls his eyes but, with the small smile on his lips, it seems less exasperated and more charmed. He pulls the guitar bag off his shoulder and uncases his brushed silver Fender. It’s nothing impressive looking like Tetsurou’s but it’s a damn good instrument, and it suits him, actually matching with the silver headphones around his neck.

With confidence, in the familiar studio and in his element, Kei walks over to another amp and plugs it in. His slender fingers move across the strings as he quickly tests tuning. Keiji follows after him, unpacking his bass and plugging it in.

“‘Here For You’?” Kei questions, settling his Fender comfortably against his hip. Tooru quickly agrees, smiling joyfully but Tetsurou winces. It’s a great song but they usually play with an electronic backing track, it sounds a little thin without it.

“Probably not the best—”

Kei clicks his tongue. “Just play it. Do you have a mic?”

Tetsurou nods and grabs the microphone stand nearby, turning it on and setting it at the right height. A butterfly flutters to life inside his stomach suddenly at the thought of singing for—no, not for, playing _with_ Kei. Which, is ridiculous, Tetsurou has sung in front crowds of thousands on stage and millions on television…

 _This is nothing, this is fine. He’s just possibly the love of your life. You’ll be fine,_ Tetsurou pep talks himself. _Your voice is amazing._

Koutarou rolls through the beat a few times while they wait for Keiji to get settled and pluck at his thick bass strings with strong, deft fingers, Tetsurou joining in immediately. It’s indisputably a better song with the thrum of the bass filling it out but he still thinks it’s missing—

Kei starts playing complex chords that sound a lot like the electronic mix they usually play with… only much, _much_ better. His long fingers move up and down the neck of his guitar naturally, like he was born to play it. Kei looks so comfortable, so picture-perfect standing next to Keiji with Koutarou slamming away on the drum behind them.

Tetsurou is so distracted by the seamless addition of Kei’s guitar that he misses his opening to sing. They all glance at him in question as they continue to play, but Tetsurou only sees Kei because that’s who he’s staring at, enthralled. With his own hands Kei completed their song, he completed their sound. It’s exactly what he was hoping for and exactly what he knew Kei would provide. Their missing puzzle piece.

Glancing over at Keiji and Koutarou, Tetsurou realises that they’re smiling, playing through without his voice happily. They hear it too, feel it. Grinning so hard his face hurts, Tetsurou somehow manages to sing around it. He revels in the perfection of the song; it’s the best they’ve ever sounded and the best they’ve ever played.

When the song fades out they all breathe into the silence that envelops the room. Even Tooru is uncharacteristically quiet in the wake of his favourite song, his mouth hanging open and actual tears in his eyes.

“That was _amazing_ ,” Tooru sighs blissfully.

Tetsurou can’t stop staring at Kei, who seems to be getting self-conscious under the weight of their excited gazes.

“That’s how I originally wrote the song,” Kei explains, his jaw clenching and his knuckles whitening around the neck of his guitar nervously. “It’s understandable that Daichi replaced some of it with electronics, the song wasn’t written for a three piece band.”

“Then why did you give it to us?” Keiji asks, his voice steady and uncritical despite the question.

“I didn’t.”

“You… didn’t?” Koutarou asks, eyebrows are raised in confusion.

“No, my manager selects who my songs go to. Tobio’s an idiot but he’s kind of a genius when it comes to that sort of thing. He wasn’t wrong, ‘Here For You’ is perfect for Night Owl, especially… Especially for your voice Tetsurou. I don’t usually care where my songs go, once performed by others they no longer feel like they’re mine and I’m fine with that.”

“But…?” Tetsurou prompts hopefully. “You said you don’t _usually_ care, but you _do_ care that ‘Here For You’ came to us?”

A smile curls Kei’s mouth and his gold eyes brighten as he meets Tetsurou’s gaze. “I’m glad that it became yours.”

“It’s clearly still yours,” Tetsurou’s voice is low, quiet and careful as he broaches the subject. “I mean, the way we just played it… It could be _ours_. You could be…” _Mine_ , he almost says, but bites back the word. Kei seems to sense it – _or expect it?_ – though, his pale cheeks flushing beautifully as his averts his gaze.

“Perhaps you could try that off-beat Koutarou,” Keiji offers a distraction, sensing the unease.

“R-Right, Kei, what were your thoughts?”

 

* * *

 

“You should go see him, Tetsurou.”

“Right, maybe he’s waiting for you to go to him bro. I mean, he made the last move, coming to play with you… uh, us.”

Tetsurou hums, barely listening to their attempts to comfort him. He’s standing at the floor to ceiling window, looking out across Central Park, which is nothing more than a rectangle of green below. New York seems cold from up here, distant, and yet he loves it, it feels like somewhere he belongs.

They’d all been getting along well, Tetsurou and Kei were even flirting with each other. Then Tetsurou had stupidly gotten his hopes up. And then, even more stupidly, put his foot in his mouth and made a joke about Kei getting his official Night Owl tattoo. Which, unless you count Koutarou’s tiny owl-head tramp stamp from that time he got incredibly drunk and no one was around to supervise, none of them have tattoos. Kei didn’t come back after that, hasn’t even spoken to any of them.

Tetsurou’s trying not to take it personally, he really is, but somehow he feels like it has something to do with him, that he pushed Kei too much, too far. He’s usually good at pushing people, gently nudging them in the right direction, but clearly he’d been too eager with Kei, too forceful.

“Which means that it’s your turn to go see him, right?”

Koutarou is terrible at comforting, but Tetsurou appreciates the effort. He walks over and sits at the table with them, giving his best friend a smile, albeit a rigid one.

“It’s not a game, Kou. It’s fine, it just wasn’t meant to happen. Kei’s happy doing what he’s doing, so we’ll just have to make do with what we have, which is awesome anyway.”

“You know we’re not concerned because of the band, Tetsurou,” Keiji says, sympathy in his smoky green eyes.

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t meant to happen either. It’s fine, plenty of fish in the sea and all that.”

Koutarou laughs. “Maybe for other people, but not for you bro. You’ve barely given anyone a second glance in the last _five years_ , and you fall in love with this guy, like, as soon as you meet him? That kinda crap doesn’t just happen to people, but it makes sense for you because you’re… _You!_ You’re all romantic and instinctive and crap.”

“Thank… you?” Tetsurou cocks an eyebrow, amused rather than offended.

“It’s not like you to give up on something,” Keiji points out, his words more significant than his tone suggests.

“Kei’s… Important. I can’t treat him like everything else. Kei’s like music, I can’t force it, I need to give it time to come naturally.”

“Oh my _God_ , you just compared him to music, you’re so fucked bro.”

Tetsurou whines, letting his head drop onto the table. “I know.”

Day by day it only gets worse. He actually misses Kei, which is all kinds of stupid considering the grand total of twelve hours they’ve spent together. Tetsurou just can’t stop thinking about Kei. Thinking about his soothing voice, though he still hasn’t sung since that first day they met. Thinking about his, undoubtedly soft, golden locks that Tetsurou desperately wants to run his hands through. Thinking about how his elegant hands create music more naturally than the ‘expert’ musicians Tetsurou went to Juilliard with. Thinking about the expressions he makes; that single raised eyebrow, that smirk that curls his lips, the flush that spreads across his cheeks and the nervousness that tightens his mouth into a line.

Tetsurou is completely and utterly enamoured by Kei.

The apartment’s phone rings, a call from the lobby, and Keiji automatically gets up to answer.

“Oh my God Kou, did you order more food? We literally just ate,” Tetsurou complains. “What are you a bottomless pit?”

“Hey! You eat just as much as I do! And I didn’t order anything,” Koutarou responds, chasing after Keiji curiously.

Lifting his head to listens carefully to Keiji answer, hidden around the corner in the entranceway, and Tetsurou frowns in confusion. They aren’t expecting anyone and Koushi and Tooru have their own keys. Unless they forgot them, which is unlikely of either of them.

“Yes?” Keiji answers, without any inflection on the question. “No, no that’s fine. Let him up… Thank you.”

There is a low mutter from Keiji, who goes to open the door, and Koutarou immediately comes rushing back into the living room, sliding on his socks with a grin illuminating his face.

“Bro! He’s here! Kei’s here!”

Tetsurou feels his eyes widening and his jaw drop open, then he glances down at himself. “ _What!_ No! I’m not ready for this! Why wouldn’t he _call_? Oh fuck, I’m dressed like a homeless person.”

“He literally wears torn jeans and baggy hoodies all the time, I’m sure he won’t even take a second look at you in sweats.”

“I _want_ him to take a second look at me!”

“Okay, well, I just heard Keiji greet him, so maybe just calm your shit or he really will think you’re a spaz.”

Somehow Tetsurou manages to do just that, sitting back down in his chair and picking up the pencil on the table in front of him to make it look like he’s doing something. His heart is _pounding_ in his chest as he hears their footsteps entering the room. Forcing a lazy grin on his face, Tetsurou turns on his chair to face them.

As expected at this point Kei’s casually dressed in torn grey jeans, a black tank top with a giant roaring t-rex head on it and a red flannel shirt. Complimenting his usual accessories of black-rimmed glasses and the headphones around his neck, Kei has a black baseball cap on backwards and black Chucks. The guy certainly has style, even if it’s not what Tetsurou is used to. Kei also has a guitar strapped onto his back, as usual, but, judging by the shape of the case, it’s an acoustic.

“Hey Kei!” Koutarou greets, having warmed up to the prickly blond after playing with him.

“Kei, long time no see,” Tetsurou says, expertly controlling his voice into his professional rockstar image, ‘suave’ tone.

“Hey,” Kei responds, his eyes locking with Tetsurou’s before roaming over the room, fingers knit in front of him. “This place is… Interesting.”

Koutarou laughs. “That’s one way to describe it.”

“What brings you here Kei?” Keiji questions, knowing that getting Koutarou and Tetsurou started on the apartment is a very dangerous and never ending conversation.

Kei gazes down at his hands, flexing nervously. “I didn’t want to do this…”

“Ha, sounds like you’ve come here to murder us,” Koutarou jokes, then his eyes go comically wide and he jumps back behind Tetsurou, fists up in a stance that is not at all threatening despite his size. “Oh my God, you’re here to assassinate us! One D finally hired someone!”

Kei raises an eyebrow, giving his are-you-stupid look. “I wrote you a song.”

The room goes quiet and Tetsurou’s heart leaps in his chest because _he wrote us a song!_ Right after ‘kiss me’ and ‘I’m joining the band’ this is the best possible thing Kei could have said. It implies he’s been _thinking_ about the band, enough to write a _song_.

Kei huffs, annoyed by their staring. “It’s bothersome as fuck but I couldn’t stop thinking about your… our sound and your voice. It’s the first time this has happened, I’ve never listened to others playing my music and wanted to specifically write _them_ more. And I can’t stop thinking of more lyrics and music for you, things to change on those tracks you showed me and… It’s the worst. I hate it.”

Tetsurou doesn’t even realise how big he’s smiling until Kei’s gold eyes land on him and a rosy blush colours his cheeks. He can practically feel Koutarou – who could not stop enthusing over the way Kei changed that beat in the first session – buzzing with excitement beside him. In his peripheral, his eyes glued to Kei, Tetsurou can see Keiji smiling, happy and unreserved.

“So… You’ll join the band then?” Tetsurou asks, full of hope.

Kei clicks his tongue. “I guess.”

Koutarou hoots as he pumps his arms in the air and bounces over to Kei, wrapping him in a tight bear hug. Keiji somehow manages to get the guitar away before Koutarou crushes it and Kei grimaces as Koutarou lifts him off the ground in his excitement. Tetsurou restrains himself from joining in and walks over to them, extending a hand to Kei when Koutarou puts him down.

“Welcome to Night Owl,” Tetsurou says, grinning cheerfully.

Hesitating, Kei’s sharp gold eyes flicker down to Tetsurou’s hand before holding his gaze. There’s something uncertain in Kei’s eyes, even as he smiles stiffly and shakes Tetsurou’s hand. Tetsurou’s reluctant to let go, Kei’s palm cold and comfortable against the heat of his own, but Kei pulls his hand back relatively quickly.

“You wrote a song?” Keiji asks, noticing the tension.

Merely humming an affirmative, Kei takes his guitar from Keiji and unpacks his tablet and sheet music from a secret pocket in the case. Sitting at their table, Kei single-mindedly sets to work in sorting through music files to find the song he’s created, his tongue rolling back and forth over his lip ring. Keiji meets Tetsurou’s gaze meaningfully, raising his eyebrows at him slightly. Tetsurou has no idea how he learned to understand the silent language of Keiji Akaashi, but somehow he knows exactly what Keiji is thinking and shakes his head worriedly. Of course, Keiji ignores him.

“Koutarou and I will go talk to Koushi about your contract,” Keiji declares. It’s a flimsy excuse because Kei would have to be present for that discussion, and yet it works. Or, rather, Keiji drags Koutarou out of the apartment before Kei looks up from his tablet.

“My contract…?” Kei finally asks with a frown.

Tetsurou scratches his neck awkwardly, setting himself down in the seat beside Kei. “Apparently.”

Those gold eyes narrow on him and Tetsurou feels suddenly very nervous being left alone in Kei’s presence. The way Kei holds himself, poised and regal despite his grunge look, people would either be in awe of him or incredibly annoyed. Tetsurou certainly falls into column A.

“Okay, well, they seem to trust your judgement so…”

Kei trails off and presses the play button, raising the volume on his tablet as acoustic guitar strings twang through. The song starts soft but builds through the first verse and into a surprisingly heavy chorus. Not bad surprising, good surprising. There is bass guitar through it, because of course Kei can play that too, and an electronic beat, which would sound better from actual drums.

By the time it’s into a second chorus Tetsurou is tapping his foot to the beat and nodding his head enthusiastically. He can feel Kei side-eyeing him but focusses on the music, on Kei’s music, making sure to _feel_ it.

“Wow, you did this in a week?” Tetsurou asks when the song finishes. “It’s almost a complete song, it just needs—”

“I have lyrics,” Kei interrupts, holding up the sheet music with a smug smile.

Tetsurou huffs a laugh and grabs them from him. “Smartass.”

“Says you.”

Pressing a hand to his heart, Tetsurou stares up at Kei with a dumbfounded look. “Kei, I am _offended_.”

Kei scoffs. “Yeah, right. Just read the lyrics Tetsu.”

With a smirk Tetsurou gazes back down at the lyrics, making sure to read them slowly and take in their meaning. They speak of abandonment and aggravation, borderline hateful. Kei writes a lot of songs for many different artists and different styles, most of the lyrics don’t seem to be personal to him, but it would be interesting to know if any of his songs are.

“It’s pretty heavy, are you sure it’ll suit us?”

“From what you’ve shown me of the other tracks you’re working on it’ll work well,” Kei says, adjusting his glasses with long elegant fingers. “The beat is the heaviest, I mostly wrote it for Koutarou, to showcase his drumming.”

“Playing favourites already I see,” Tetsurou complains, though he’s grinning.

Kei rolls his eyes. “Your style tends to shy away from any complicated beat, and that makes sense when you’re breaking out on your first album. You want catchy songs and simplicity. But this is your time to show your talent—”

“Our talent.”

“Right,” Kei says slowly, clearly still growing accustomed to it. “But you had the right idea with that first one I heard, the one with the off-beat, it emphasises your vocals. It’s a really good way to…”

He shrugs out of his red flannel shirt and suddenly Tetsurou can’t concentrate on his words. Kei’s shoulders are well-proportioned to his tall, lean frame and his skin is pale with a few light freckles across his shoulders. Although some of it is concealed by his tank top, Tetsurou’s mesmerised by the tattoo of black wings spawning from Kei’s shoulder blades and gracefully spread across his back and arms, the tips of the wings finishing mid-way down his triceps. The detail in the wings is incredible and Tetsurou has the strong desire to trace every line of every feather on Kei’s smooth skin with his fingertips… or his lips.

“…Tetsu?” Kei’s voice is quiet and unsure, and when Tetsurou’s eyes flicker up to his face he immediately notices the pink blush colouring his face.

“Sorry.”

Silence falls between them as Kei watches him, subtle expressions chasing each other across his features. Kei seems to want to say something, but is hesitant. Tetsurou waits patiently, enjoying simply watching his beautiful face.

“Why do you do that?” Kei asks and Tetsurou frowns, expressing his confusion. “Why do you just… stare, at me?”

Swallowing hard, embarrassment finally catches up to Tetsurou and he averts his gaze. “You’re nice to look at, Kei,” he says, not generally one to stray from the straightforward answer. “I can stop looking at you though, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Tetsurou glances up at him hopefully, the unspoken question hanging between them. Kei’s eyes widen at Tetsurou’s admission but he quickly averts them back down to the tablet in his hands, pretending to scroll through files in search of something.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kei says, scoffing at the absurdity, even as his cheeks deepen in colour. “We’re in the same band now, you’ll have to look at me sometimes.”

He can feel himself grinning stupidly at Kei’s reaction, but can’t bring himself to care. It’s such a beautiful reaction, the reaction Tetsurou wanted. Awkward and embarrassed, it means so much more than what is apparent on the surface. It means he can fluster Kei, it means Kei likes being stared at by him, it means… It means Kei might return his feelings. Hope sparks alight in Tetsurou’s chest, warming him through.

“Okay, now let’s sing it!” Tetsurou enthuses, jittering with excitement because _I’m going to sing with Kei_.

“Inferring that I’ll be singing with you?” Kei questions, a pierced eyebrow raised and less flushed as they fall into familiar banter. “I think not, you’re the lead singer, mister suave rockstar front man.”

“But Kei, you need to help me with the timing!”

Kei clicks his tongue. “And here I thought you went to some fancy music school that taught you to read music…”

 

* * *

 

They arrive at _Soaring Crow_ studios energetic and excited. At least half of the band is. Kei and Keiji are their usual indifferent selves, but Koutarou is more than making up for it, bouncing around and reminding them over and over why today’s special. Like they could forget.

“We’re finalising the album today!” Koutarou cheers, pumping his fists into the air. “We’re finally going to have a new album and then more number ones, and then another global tour and then—”

“Daichi could reject some of our tracks,” Kei deadpans, slouching in his chair with his pale knees poking out the rips in his faded blue jeans.

Koutarou gasps like Kei just told him he killed his puppy. “Who invited the fun police?!”

“You did, remember, when you invited me to join the band.”

“Well, no, Tetsu invited you and I just went along with it because he wanted to kiss—” Tetsurou shakes his head vigorously from behind Kei. “—I mean,” Koutarou clears his throat, “keep the band strong.”

_Smooth Kou, smooth._

“A-And then you were pretty awesome,” he continues, rambling to get away from his fuck up. “But that doesn’t mean you get to shit all over my celebration!”

“Kei’s right. It’s too early to celebrate,” Keiji says dryly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh my God, Tetsu, I’m outnumbered by the fun police! Help me!”

Tetsurou chuckles, sitting up straight and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat. “We’re literally waiting outside Daichi’s office, maybe just hold off until after the meeting bro.”

“But I’m excited,” Koutarou whines, squirming in his seat.

“Yeah, I can tell, you sound like you’ve downed five espresso shots and a giant Red Bull.”

Koutarou’s eye twitches. “I _swear_ I only had _one_ coffee!”

“I told you not to drink any…” Keiji drawls, resting his head back against the wall. “I banned you from coffee after that time you climbed on top of that giant jungle gym, took your shirt off and beat on your chest, proclaiming yourself Tarzan.”

“Keijiii, you swore you’d never talk about that again!”

“And you swore you’d never drink coffee again.”

The door to Daichi’s office opens just as Koutarou is about to complain some more and Tetsurou inwardly breathes a sigh of relief. For someone who sounds so reasonable Keiji sure likes to continue arguments, mostly with Koutarou, Tetsurou’s convinced Keiji actually enjoys it.

“Oh thank fuck,” Kei says under his breath and making Tetsurou smile as he voices Tetsurou’s relief.

Daichi exits his office with a broad smile, looking sharp in a pinstriped black suit. Daichi Sawamura is a kind man, kind but firm. It’s no wonder he’s done well in the industry with his determination, patience and his ability to handle any situation. Working with him has been a dream and they all owe him a lot, none will likely ever forget the chance he took on them.

“Koutarou,” Daichi says as he shakes his hand and then frowns as he takes in Koutarou’s expression. “You look… energetic.”

“I’m excited to—”

“Coffee,” Keiji interrupts.

“Ah, I see,” Daichi nods his head knowingly. “As bad as the jungle gym?”

“Hey!”

Keiji ignores Koutarou and squints at him, assessing. “No, not quite.”

“Good to see you guys, it’s been way too long,” Daichi says, smiling genuinely. With all of their busy schedules they don’t get to see each other often, all of their correspondence with Daichi coming through Koushi. “Kei, I was so glad to hear that you’d joined Night Owl. I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have much choice, the begging was getting rather pathetic,” Kei says, a smirk curling one corner of his mouth. “I had to put them out of their misery, it was getting embarrassing.”

“Wow, that’s just rude and uncalled for,” Tetsurou responds, pretending to be insulted.

Daichi chuckles and pats Kei on the shoulder. “Koushi said you’re all getting along well, it’s good to see. Come on in,” he invites, continuing as he ushers them into his office. “I’m sure Tobio will miss grumbling at you. Though he has his hands full with another rather stubborn songwriter.”

Tetsurou snorts a laugh. “Yeah, Kenma won’t stop complaining about him. I don’t think I’ve actually ever heard him talk about someone so much…”

“Maybe Kenma likes him,” Keiji suggests, sitting gracefully in an armchair across from Daichi.

“Nobody _likes_ Tobio,” Kei grimaces, sitting next to Tetsurou on the sofa. “We simply tolerate him.”

“He’s a very good manager,” Daichi scolds, protectively, sitting himself in his very comfortable looking chair at his very grand desk.

All around the room are framed albums in, platinum and gold, celebrating Daichi’s work, or in his more modest case, displaying his pride in the artists he’s worked with. On the wall behind his desk, perched on either of Daichi’s shoulders, are Night Owl’s first album, _Here For You_ – signed by the three of them – and Hitoka’s biggest album _Life Long_. Daichi would never pick favourites but Tetsurou likes to tease him about the two prime wall spaces being taken by them and Hitoka.

“Now, there isn’t actually much we need to talk about,” Daichi starts, lacing his fingers together on the desk. “But I thought I should tell you to your faces that this album is amazing. The sound feels more… complete. And while I can hear Kei’s heavier, grungier influence, you’ve managed to perfectly incorporate it into your original style and have created something rather… Well, incredible really. I can’t tell you how pleasantly surprised I was throughout the album. I mean, I knew it would be good but I didn’t know it would be this good. I have to tell you guys, I’m really, _really_ proud.”

Tetsurou’s grinning so hard his face hurts and as Daichi finishes, he lets out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. Getting Daichi’s approval is comforting as much as it is encouraging. The man knows his music, he’s kind but never one to overstate matters, for him to say these things is rather special.

“I fucking told you!” Koutarou tilts his head back and yells, pumping his fists in celebration before leaning over Daichi’s desk, kissing him square on the mouth and saluting. “Thank you boss!”

Kei and Keiji are smiling quietly, expressing excitement in their own controlled way. It’s taking all of Tetsurou’s control not to kiss Kei. It’s been a physical _need_ lately, to be near Kei, to touch Kei, to kiss Kei; but he’s resisted, the music coming first. In this moment it’s less for the intimate desire and more for the simple need to express how ridiculously grateful he is to have met Kei, to have Kei in his life, to work with Kei. No one has ever had this much of an effect on Tetsurou’s life. Maybe one day he’ll actually be able to tell him.

“However,” Daichi interrupts Koutarou’s boisterous celebration. “The album is missing something, a slower more emotional track, a ballad, towards the end. Do you perhaps have anything like that?”

Tetsurou heaves a sigh. “Now it’s my turn to say ‘I told you so.’ Didn’t I say that when we were playing it through?”

“How about the one we scrapped?” Keiji suggests calm and thoughtful.

“We scrapped it for a reason Keiji,” Koutarou says.

“We can rework it.”

“If you don’t have something it’s fine, it would just round the album out nicely,” Daichi reassures.

“No, you’re right,” Tetsurou allows, pushing his hands through his hair and contemplating a solution. “It’s okay, we can write—”

“I have something,” Kei speaks up, he looks reluctant though, wincing as soon as he’s spoken as if he hadn’t meant to. “A song, I mean. I have a ballad I’ve been working on, but it, um… I wasn’t sure it would work on the album, so I didn’t…”

Trailing off, Kei looks like he wants to be swallowed up by the ground and Tetsurou cannot for the life of him understand why. He just saved them, again, and yet he looks more uncomfortable than Tetsurou has ever seen him. The room is silent as they stare at Kei, probably just as confused about his reluctance as Tetsurou is.

“That’s awesome Kei,” Tetsurou says, gipping Kei’s bird tattooed forearm with the strange sudden need to reassure and support him. “How complete is it?”

“It’s mostly done, possibly just needs playing and tweaking. I’ll just have to go get it, it’s at the music shop.”

Kei stands up and Tetsurou automatically goes to follow, his body almost moving of its own accord.

“I’ll come with you.”

Freezing with his hand on the door handle, Kei turns to meet his gaze. Tetsurou can see the stubborn refusal in those liquid gold eyes as Kei’s mouth opens to undoubtedly deny him, but it melts away as he watches Tetsurou, his mouth snapping shut.

“Okay,” Kei says instead, swallowing hard before opening the door and walking out.

Tetsurou stands there for a moment, staring after Kei, confused and concerned. He’s never seen Kei like this before. He’s usually so unaffected and snarky and confident, especially when it comes to music, in his element. He’s also not the type of person to get nervous about his writing. Kei either likes or hates his work, and accepts it for what it is. This uncertainty is unexpected.

“We’ll meet you back here,” Tetsurou tells the others. “We won’t be long.”

 

* * *

 

Tetsurou walks beside, but a step behind, Kei. He watches Kei fiddle with his keys as they get closer to _Firefly Music_ , he notices the distracted expression glazed over Kei’s features, he takes in the stiff set of Kei’s shoulders. They’ve barely spoken since they left the studio. Kei’s too distracted to grumble at Tetsurou for watching him and Tetsurou is too concerned to even take the opportunity to ogle the most beautiful person he’s ever met, Kei.

When they reach the red door of the shop, Kei fumbles his keys, dropping them, and doesn’t even complain when Tetsurou picks them up for him. Kei pushes open the heavy red door with more ease than Tetsurou ever has, muttering something about hiring someone to manage the shop. They’ve practiced here a few times since Kei joined the band and it’s by far Tetsurou’s favourite place to play. Somehow the acoustics are better in this old music shop than at Daichi’s million-dollar recording studio.

“Are you okay?” Tetsurou asks, not for the first time.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Kei answers, purposely avoiding his gaze.

Kei tucks the keys into the pocket of his black leather jacket, pushing the white hood of his sweatshirt and ruffling his fingers through his wavy blond undercut so that it falls onto his forehead. Tetsurou watches the movements with rapt attention, unable to draw his gaze away, and for the first time Kei’s eyes flicker to him but only for a moment.

Without a word Kei walks into the back room, Tetsurou following after him, uncertain he should but unable to stop himself from doing so nonetheless.

“So, how long have you been working on this song?” Tetsurou asks, needing to drown out the stifling silence as they enter Kei’s surprisingly well organised office and he starts looking through his desk.

“Uh, about—” Kei clears his throat. “About a month.”

Tetsurou frowns. “That’s a while, you weren’t happy with it?”

“No, I really like it. It’s just a little… personal.”

He feels his frown deepen and is about to ask what that means when Kei finally pulls a stack of sheet music from his desk draw. Kei eyes the paper nervously and then walks around to stand in front of Tetsurou, his jaw twitching and his fingers loosening and tightening their hold on the music and lyrics.

“Kei, for shit sake, what’s wrong?”

Tetsurou watches Kei clench his jaw, fighting to keep words in, fighting to keep his composure. He really wants to kiss him, if only to help Kei relax, if only so he doesn’t have to see Kei so troubled and uncomfortable. But then Tetsurou could think of a million and one reasons and excuses to kiss Kei.

“Nothing, just—here,” Kei grinds out, shoving the music into Tetsurou’s chest.

Tetsurou barely manages to catch the paper before Kei moves back and sits on the edge of his desk, lacing his fingers together and playing with his lip ring. Kei rolling his tongue back and forth over his bottom lip is possibly the most distracting thing in the world but Tetsurou manages to drag his gaze away to examine the song he’s been handed.

Straightening the pages, Tetsurou looks down at the first page, the song titled _Unexpected_. The music reads well from what Tetsurou can read and imagine it sounding like, but sometimes these things can take on a whole new sound when played. The song probably does need some tweaking here and there but then it depends on the lyrics. More than anything Kei is a lyricist, his words and the voice behind them tend to be the masterpieces of his writing. These lyrics seem to be no different, emotive and poignant—

Tetsurou frowns, reading and re-reading lines, searching for meaning in the words written before him. The meaning isn’t complicated, it’s no great riddle, but Tetsurou’s lost in disbelief with what he’s reading to pinpoint the meaning.

 

_You walk on in_

_Lopsided smiles and lacking grace_

_But so much more gentle_

_Than the rockstar you portray_

 

 _About a month,_ Kei’s words resonate in his mind as understanding hits Tetsurou like a brick, knocking the air out of him. _It’s just a little… personal._

“Kei…” Tetsurou says breathlessly, glancing up at him, but Kei refuses to look at him, instead staring down at his hands, gripped together so tightly his knuckles are white. “This is…”

 

_What’s my affection worth?_

_Hidden behind their sheer adoration_

_Is it even noticeable?_

_Do you even care?_

 

What if the lyrics aren’t what he thinks? What if he’s reading into it too much? What if he’s just seeing what he wants to see? Tetsurou reads the words again.

 

_It’s all that you are_

_It’s all that I am_

_It’s everything I cannot stand_

_Why do I want it, need it, feel it_

_Your unexpected light enters my life_

_And I cannot get enough_

 

Tetsurou feels dizzy as his eye move over the words frantically, his heart thundering in his chest. This can’t be real. A month, a whole month and this is how Kei felt. Tetsurou had hoped, he’d noticed the flirting and even noticed the way Kei looked at him sometimes. But noticing those small moments and _knowing_ where two completely different things.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Tetsurou reorganises the sheet music with trembling fingers and sets it down carefully on the desk beside Kei. Tetsurou regards him, watches his pulse rabbit erratically in his neck and the stubborn set of his jaw.

“Tell me this is—”

“It’s about you,” Kei blurts nervously, the uncertain waver in his voice doesn't suit him and Tetsurou wants to make it stop. “I wrote the song about you. As soon as you left the shop that first day… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Tetsurou can’t stop the smiles that stretches his lips unreservedly, even if he wanted to. Warmth floods through him and he feels light, like a weight has been lifted, free to act on his feelings… free to touch and kiss and be with Kei. But Kei isn’t looking at him, Kei doesn’t see the ridiculous, open, giddy grin that’s spread across Tetsurou’s face.

“And you don’t know how I feel…?” Tetsurou prompts, his grin growing mischievous when Kei clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“I’m not a mind reader, Tetsu, how am I supposed to— _mm_ —?”

As Kei glances up in annoyance Tetsurou leans down and silences him with his lips. Kei makes a noise of surprise before melting into it, humming appreciation against Tetsurou’s mouth. In response, Tetsurou steps forward, between Kei’s legs, and cups his cheeks, pressing another soft kiss against his lips. Kei’s quick to respond, parting his lips and sucking in Tetsurou’s bottom lip hungrily.

Impatient, Kei’s hands find Tetsurou’s waist, fingers curling desperately into his skin, and he pushes Tetsurou back so he can stand. This gives Kei more control of the kiss and Tetsurou gladly lets him take it, his hands falling to Kei’s chest where he clutches helplessly at the material of his shirt.

Tetsurou’s held firmly to Kei’s body as he deepens the kiss, licking at Tetsurou’s lips before pushing in and exploring his mouth. Tetsurou does his best to breathe through his nose but thinking through these things is difficult when all he can focus on is the heat of Kei’s body and mouth and tongue, the hunger, the _need_. He feels his knees weaken and is glad that Kei’s holding him.

“Mm, Kei,” Tetsurou gasps between kisses. “I can’t…”

Kei pulls away from his mouth but only to rest their foreheads together, breathing heavily against Tetsurou’s mouth. The sight of Kei’s kiss swollen mouth and panting is enough to make Tetsurou want more, need for oxygen be damned, but Kei’s eyes hold him. Up this close they’re brilliant, a whole different type of breathtaking.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Kei says, his hands moving down to settle on Tetsurou’s hips.

Tetsurou frowns. “You know what?”

“Kou told me that you’ve never… And that it’s been a while since you’ve…”

For someone who was just kissing him, licking into his mouth and sucking at his lips like a man starved, Tetsurou finds it hilarious that Kei can’t actually speak the words. He huffs a laugh and then groans as he thinks about what Kei was saying.

“He may have the best intentions but damn it Kou is the _worst_ wingman,” Tetsurou complains.

“Can’t argue that.”

A smirk plays at Kei’s lips, barely curling the corner with his amusement but it’s enough to make Tetsurou stop and stare. The smile fades as silence falls between them and Kei grows uncomfortable under the scrutiny of Tetsurou’s gaze.

“What?” Kei asks, slightly defensive with embarrassment, pulling back.

“You’re so unbelievably beautiful, Kei.”

His eyes widen and a pretty pink flush paints his pale cheeks.

“Damn it, Tetsurou…” Kei mutters, ducking his head.

Tetsurou’s hand slides up the soft skin of Kei’s neck and comes to rest against the short blond hair at the back of his head. Tetsurou could stay like this forever, being held by Kei, being kissed by Kei, making Kei smile and blush, making Kei happy.

“ _Your unexpected light enters my life, and I cannot get enough_ ,” Tetsurou sings softly.

At the sound of Tetsurou singing his lyrics, Kei looks up, eyes wide in wonder and adoration.

“You sung it wrong,” Kei says dryly, his expression moving back into one of apathy in a failed attempt to hide his playful amusement.

Tetsurou gasps dramatically. “I sung it like an angel!”

“There was nothing wrong with your voice, your voice is amazing, but the melody was all wrong. Seriously who taught you to read music?”

“I will have you know I went to Juilliard.”

Kei scoffs. “Well you really should get your money back.”

“Oh?” Tetsurou smirks as an idea comes to him. “You sing it then.”

Kei’s smile falls and his eyes flicker down to Tetsurou’s mouth. The intensity in Kei’s golden eyes, as he looks back into Tetsurou’s eyes, making butterflies flutter through his stomach. Kei’s voice, smooth and rich, washes over Tetsurou and makes goosebumps rise on his skin as he sings the words back to him.

The words Kei wrote for him, the song Kei wrote for him, with the voice that lured Tetsurou in, helplessly in love from the very first note… It’s perfect. Kei is perfect. And Tetsurou couldn’t have fallen harder.

_I cannot get enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT:** There will be a 3rd chapter for the last day of KuroTsuki Week. This is important because I want your help ^_^ My question to you is:  
>  **What questions would you like to ask the band?**  
>  I'm going to be writing a talk show interview segment, with Night Owl, and I thought it would be cool if you guys asked the questions :D (Just fyi, interview will be set a few weeks after this chapter, Kei will have been introduced as the new member of the band but the public won't know about his relationship with Tetsurou).

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://sarolonde.tumblr.com/)


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